Guide to Modern Warfare
by Kevvy Talks
Summary: Under fated circumstances, Aaroniero finds himself with the bane of his existence, Lilinette, in the world of Twilight, which they must massacre using the crappy directions of a stupid pamphlet in order to get back home. Full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Guide to Modern Warfare**

**Summary: Aaroniero always hated Lilinette, the bane of his existence, the source of all his bad karma-the sole reason he had to suffer hellish hours at Aizen's mind-numbing tea parties. She was the annoyance he just wanted to be rid of. She was just the shadow that tailed him wherever he went, the puppy dog that continued to tag his every step.**

**He hated her, detested her...right? Aaroniero begins to question his incentives when, after being swallowed by a sinkhole, he and Lilinette end up in the world of Twilight and massacre it on a mission to find their way home using only a stupid pamphlet with crappy directions and Lilinette's knowledge of the Guide to Modern Warfare.**

**A/N: Inspired by 500 Ways to Kill Off Bleach Characters and Kill the Spartan. **

**Pairing: Lilinette/Aaroniero/Kaien **

**Genre: Humor/Adventure**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.**

**A/N: No. No romance, kiddies. I'm not that sick. **

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><p>"Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit!" The incessant profanity continued in a never ending string, echoing down the vast corridors, past atriums, into palaces, throughout Las Noches<em>, <em>where even the most nocturnal of creatures buried in the most gloomy of corners couldn't have escaped the racket heard that moment. Lilinette Gingerback was staring at the colossal double doors from where she stood outside, on alert like a watch-dog, the sun shining ever so boundlessly in its omnipresence from where it had been made by their creator to snuff out the average shadow permeating Hueco Mundo_. _And, it was behind none other than these very doors that the owner of the chalk white palace could be heard cursing the universe and its perplexity for a reason she knew not.

Lilinette had been standing here for a substantial amount of time, debating mentally whether or not she should risk the ultimate wrath of the person inside or get Stark...yet so far had not come to an agreeable conclusion. Lilinette was sure she'd been standing there for over an hour, listening to the same two-syllable word-dammit-and some random noise that couldn't be deciphered but sounded a lot like someone repetitively slamming their head into a solid object, when she felt someone approaching.

"What is going on?" queried a very unsatisfied voice, though the tone itself was so velvet smooth that it defied impatience and instead bordered on world-weariness.

"Can't I rest in peace without there being any unnecessary disruption?" Ulquiorra, having a short time ago acquired a headache after Grimmjow insisted to pesture him for most of the afternoon about catnip-which he appeared to have indulged in, in large quantities-pot, and an event involving a picnic with Gin dressed as a prostitute, was in no mood at all to deal with Lilinette's mayhem. And after Szyael had managed to miraculously create cookies that could combust in your face, and tea that gave Grimmjow worms, he was yearning for a happy place where he could fantasize liberally in his emo moments. Within this strange place where almost everyone other than himself was an idiot, he could at least surmise that he was also the only _sane _being left in this world. But, of course, just as he'd been about to achieve the millionth attempt that day to commit suicide, he'd been halted in this pressing matter by the incredible and profane sounds that were traveling through the very corridors he called his home. And who did he find, but none other than Lilinette Gingerback, who was situated in such a spot that it wouldn't surprise him if she got struck by a bolt of lightning at any moment. Ulquiorra had to refrain from irrationally throwing Lilinette over the bridge they stood on just so he could get dibs on that onslaught of electrical charges he was imagining. If he somehow didn't die of electrocution, then Stark would rip his limbs off for harming Lilinette, though not before the inhabitant of the palace he remained motionless before ingested him in some gourmet dinner.

So Ulquiorra settled for striding up beside Lilinette, who automatically jabbed her elbow into his side upon his close proximity.

"Hey, emo dude! Have you found a way to kill yourself yet?" she shouted with such volume he would have flushed with anger had blood been able to penetrate pastel color of his complexion. He settled for frowning instead. "Ya know everyone's been waiting for ya to die?" Already feel bad enough about himself, Ulquiorra would have hurled himself off the bridge right then and there had it not been for Lilinette promptly jumping up and slapping her palm on the back of his head so suddenly he stumbled forward.

"Hey! Maybe Aaroniero will kill you! He sounds pretty pissed off!" Ulquiorra glanced dully towards the obstruction blocking them from Aaroniero, Noveno Espada_,_ who it seemed was unquestionably angry and ready to kill.

"I...," he began, clammering for an excuse that would give him some reason to die in a way no so agonizingly than by _Glotonería."_ _Glotonería, diarrhea, Glotonería, diarrhea, _Lilinette had sang once at one of Aizen's tea parties. Aizen, Gin, and Tousen had been amused; Aaroniero, however, had not. Ulquiorra couldn't get the song out of his head now.

"You might as well save it, Lilinette," drawled a second voice. "Ulquiorra can't do it. He just acts like an emo because it boosts his ego." The 4th _Espada _glared at Szayel as the man pranced towards them in pink stilettos that equally matched his hair; he also donned gloves of a magenta shade.

The sleeves on his uniform were fringed at the edges, and he wore a single barette to hold his bangs back. He balanced the dish of exploding cookies and cupcakes in his right hand as he wobbled towards them, and shrugged when Lilinette snickered. "What? It's an experiment on female beauty," he said. Ulquiorra face-palmed.

"Next thing you know, you'll be a cross dresser," he muttered.

"Or a hooker!" Lilinette piped up. Szayel snapped his fingers, swaying his hips as he flashed Ulquiorra a dirty look. "Hey! It's not my fault I have feminine moments! The other day, I took this drug...and now I'm on my PERIOD! All I want to do now is cry..." Szyael's lip trembled, dramatic tears falling down his face, smearing his mascara.

"Drop dead, you...you emo!" He lifted his chin, as if in encouragement, and Ulquiorra's shoulders sunk as he walked over to Szayel and snatched the dish of explosive but edible sweets. "I knew no one wanted me," he murmured. Then, with that, he commenced to stuff his face with the explosive confections.

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><p><strong>AN: Cliffhanger!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to: loverofgin. Thanks for taking the time to review! **

**As for those who might have been put off by the title, this story has nothing to do with warfare, so don't worry. You'll find out later why I gave it its name. **

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><p>"Oh no you don't! I <em>own <em>you! You don't die unless I say so!" the newcomer declared. Grimmjow grabbed Ulquiorra by the neck, shaking him back and forth viciously like a ragdoll as he howled "LIVE! LIVE! YOU HAVE TO...LIVE!" But all this succeeded in doing was chocking his rival.

"If you don't hawk it back up than I'll shove my hand down your throat and _force _it up!"

Lilinette raised her finger in preparation to suggest something meaningful, such as CPR, when Grimmjow, as pledged, shoved his hand into Ulquiorra's mouth, just as the emo chose at that moment to throw up all over himself and his companion. Regardless of the moment, the Arrancar shook him relentlessly to try and revive him.

"Ya see that!" he announced to the crowd. "I revived Juliet. I don't think I make a bad Romeo myself, do you?" And it was at that second that Ulquiorra regained consciousness and slapped Grimmjow across the face, seizing him by the collar. "Why...am I _Juliet?" _he hissed.

Grimmjow massaged his cheek, blue eyes narrowing as he smirked. "Because you make such a _charming _female," he pointed out. "That...and I'm the one with the six pack..._honey." _Voice dripping with sarcasm, he leaned forward, arms outstretched in invitation, beaming and obviously full of himself because of his comeback, when he got bitch-slapped again by none other than Ulquiorra.

"Trash." He stood up, dusting himself off while taking into account the smell of his own excretions with disgust.

Grimmjow, who was fuming now at the fact that he'd been turned down, muttered profanity and glared daggers at Ulquiorra, of whom refused to be incensed by insults or otherwise. "Tch...'T's not like I would have cared if those cupcakes from hell had blown your damn head off...Then I could have just gone and slept with Hallibel," he hissed. "At least _she _appreciates me...in a way." He gave a cat-line grin, crossing his arms, knowing that if the words hadn't worked, then insecurity would kick in and Ulquiorra would submit.

"The last time you tried to get me to sleep with you for the sake of Ulquiorra's jealousy...I kicked you in the nuts, Grimmjow," Hallibel said, her arms crossed over voluptuous breasts advanced lithely over to the four Arrancarstanding outside Aaroniero's lair. None of them, however, were there solely anymore for the unremitting "dammit" that could no longer be heard over the argument at present. "I couldn't sit or stand for two days," Grimmjow groused, quivering as he recalled standing-cringing-on the receiving end of Hallibel's rage. Ulquiorra huffed, though it came out as a sigh instead, his brow meshing together in a frown of displeasure as he listened to Grimmjow's complaint.

"Is this supposed to impress me, Grimmjow?" he inquired. "And besides, from where I was standing, Hallibel, it looked like you were brutally castrating him."

"No," the _sexta Espada _squeaked.

"Yes," Ulquiorra confirmed.

Lilinette slapped her palm over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with laughter. Hallibel was silent, as she cared not to contradict what was said, and Szayel smiled, as if he was proud of himself, before breaking the silence. "Grimmjow! You didn't tell us you were neutured!" he fawned. Grimmjow sobbed, rocking back and forth as Ulquiorra shook his head in shame and pity, in no way moved by the pathetic scene before him.

"I could get used to entertainment like this," Barragan said from nearby, closer to the flight of stars exiting the bridge. Nnoitora, who was sitting indolently on the ledge closest to Hallibel, smirked as he witnessed Grimmjow's loss of grip on his ruined ego. Stark, having sauntered in seconds earlier, had performed an instant step of _sonido _and paused by Lilinette to pat her on the head. Zommari was one of few not present, as he was currently worshiping relics and shrines of Aizen in his palace not far away-Yammy was too big to fit through the stairway. But, in all of this commotion, all of the Espada_, _who were all clustered there on the single structure under the hot sun, had forgotten their purpose for being there in the first place.

"What the hell are you all doing here?" an astounded voice spoke up.

Lilinette laughed, jumping up and down and tugging on Stark's sleeve as she pointed to the shadows nearest the entrance of the palace, where the sunlight did not reach.

"Look! Look! It's what's-his-fish-tank-face!" she announced joyfully.

In reply, there was an outburst of vehemence and vulgarity, all of which was aimed at the same girl who'd addressed his advent.

"DAMMIT, I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO STOP CALLING ME THAT!" Aaroniero screeched.

"It's Aaroniero Arruruerie, you little wench! Aaroniero Arruruerie!"

"Kiss my ass, mean fish-tank-face!" she spat, sticking her tongue out in retaliation.

"Damn, Aaroniero, I'm surprised you don't have a freakin' identity crisis, switching between faces like that all the time," Nnoitora said. "Who the hell are you supposed to be now?" From the shadows, Aaroniero visibly twitched.

"And why were you yelling, huh?" Lilinette asked, her inquisitiveness a little too evident as she leaned forward from where she hid behind Stark, who had his hands shoved in his pockets and was rolling his eyes. Barragan, the victim of the gifts his _fraccion _were bestowing upon him, just muttered, "I had no part in this" while nudging Grimmjow in the back with his foot from where he reclined on his throne. The 6th Espadawhimpered, resuming swaying to and fro as he relived traumatizing memories unawares to the poking and prodding sent his way. Nnoitora, wanting no part in whatever was going on, conversed amiably with Hallibel, who it seemed was more absorbed in staring icily past him rather than at him. Szayel only adjusted his gloves and discreetly shuffled nearer to Lilinette and Stark in order to have a part in the conversation.  
>"Can't I do anything in this god-forsaken place without you idiots climbing up my ass?" Aaroniero inquired incredulously. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he shouted, "And I was cursing because I broke my damn pencil!" There was a heavy and all-pervading silence, as if in prelude to something else. Had it been any other person Lilinette would have positively been obliged to laugh, or scoff, if not for the fact that her and Aaroniero weren't exactly on friendly terms. So if she were to dare to embarrass him or insult him in front of the other Espeda,then he would downright kill her.<p>

"I was rehearsing my lines...," Aaroniero prompted, waving his hand in a gesture meant to persuade a response from someone willing to guess what he was blabbering about.

"I was writing down my lines for when Rukia comes!" Still no one said anything, though Szayel jumped and Grimmjow screamed like a frightened child, while Sun-Sun, who'd accompanied Hallibel, patted him reassuringly on the head. Ulquiorra, who was no longer interested in Aaroniero, much like everybody else, simply swiveled to Szayel as the feminine-dressed man began to stroll away in boredom. "I, for one, would like to know what you put in those cookies. I thought they were rigged with explosives."

All the passerby heard from Szayel, as he valiantly disappeared, was, "They were actually full of anti-depressants."

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><p><strong>Review? <strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello, everybody. Read and review, pleeze.**

**Thanks to: loverofgin. I know, I know, don't worry, Gin will pop up eventually. He's lurking...**

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><p>Barragan, having retired of ennui, called from the stairway for Ggio to get moving, and Hallibel tactfully made her way to push Nnoitora off the edge of the bridge when she passed. Aaroniero snorted as he saw that he was quickly no longer the center of attention, and even though he didn't really care that he was the most dispensable of all the <em>Espada, <em>he couldn't help but feel agitated. He would have felt content to be just a little like them-the notorious and feared-but, alas, even unlimited evolutionary potential could only get one so far. Being the 9th _Espada _was a load of crap. It was just because he didn't look as human as they did; he couldn't come out at day like they could because he offended others without the use of his mask. They were the lucky ones; they had lovely advantages. Aaroniero didn't have _fraccion _because he tired without cessation of the feeble recoiling as partial to his countenance. And he liked it alone, thank you very much. Being a hermit, a loner, a rogue, an outcast-whatever they called it-was much more preferable than hearing the prolonged nitpicking or questioning of any retard or moron he could possibly meet that found fault in him from first sight. It was always the same inane questions: "What are you exactly?" "What happened to you (to make you so damn ugly)?" As if he'd had some freakin' accident. And the most favored of all: "You eat other _Hollows?" _He wouldn't be the first-Grimmjow-but he liked to think that he'd had more than his fair share from the start. 30,000 spirits is alot of chow, when you think about it. Half the Hollows he'd devoured, including a pitiable Metastacia, had not even tasted half that good. Aside this, it still had its compensations, for recently, a very unfortunate Ichigo Kurosaki and company had raided _Hueco Mundo _to rescue prisoner Orihime Inoue from Lord Aizen's palace. Among the rescuees was Soul Reaper Rukia Kuchiki, who also happened to be the subordinate to a certain spirit he'd consumed long ago. After relaying the memories of Kaien Shiba, former assistant captain to squad 13 of _Seireitei, _he'd begun to jot down random notes on a scrap of paper he'd managed to recover within his residence. And it was also Aaroniero's recent streak of bad luck that he was sure caused his wretched and mauled nub of a pencil to snap, therefore leaving it deceased of natural causes. That, and it could have been fault, also, to the enormous pressure he bore on the writing utensil when he wrote, because of topical stress. Of late, Aizen had decided to fling a big tea party bash over the termination of Orihime's abduction, which, to say, was boring as hell to he, the 9th _Espada. _All of the Arrancars had attended-a rather large disenchantment-and many had gotten drunk over Gin's secret stash of sakè.

Iceringer, who was completely wasted at the time, had thrown up all over Nnoitora after playing shots, which ensued in an outmatched fistfight. Stark had simply fallen asleep, sprawled across the long table they assembled around at meetings, and Hallibel had sat in a nearby corner to talk guardedly with a very discreet Tousen.

Yammy had inconsequentially smashed an Arrancar after collapsing immediately to the ground due to intoxication, and Ulquiorra had been absent to reprimand him after becoming victim to a purring and clingy Grimmjow.

No one had made any move to abscond the disaster since Aizen had charitably threatened to murder them should they ditch his lovely party. So, Aaroniero was compelled to sit at the very rear of the room while a maddening and inebriated Lilinette poked him in the arm intermittently, asking, "Whatcha doing'?" to which he would reply, "Suffering."

He hadn't partook at all in the beverages served that evening, but when he returned to his courters the following morning, he had a migraine anyway. Thus was the cause of his poor pencil's death. And after satisfying his frustrations through a good bout of profanity and slamming his head again and again into his desk, he miraculously had no headache anymore. But it seem, nonetheless, that his moment of insanity had caused quite the crowd to gather right in front of his domicile, and who was among them, you might ask? Oh, it was none other than Lilinette Gingerback, the source of all his migraines, troubles, and bad karma. If it weren't for the infuriating mouth on that girl then Aaroniero would have been able to flee Lord Aizen's hellish tea party via the shadows had it not been for her snitching on him. And, I quote, "LOOK! LOOK! FISH-TANK-FACE IS TRYIN' TO SNEAK AWAY!"

And, it was this outburst that directed all attention to him, including the chiseled features, narrowed eyes, hawk-eyed vision, and prying smirk of Sosuke Aizen himself, who was no doubt spying for the dupe he should persecute. He could have easily used _sonido, _but it was Aaroniero's pride that got the best of him. Quote, "I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO STOP CALLING ME THAT, YOU LITTLE BRAT!" And so it was of no entertainment that 9th _Espada _and lower-ranked Arrancarcommenced to bicker, which was enough of a punishment in itself to Aizen. This was how twilight waned, and it was also what took place high into what would have been dawn. Even after Stark had hit the sack and all the drunken occupents of _Hueco Mundo _were out cold or in other crude positions on the floor, Lilinette carried on boring Aaroniero with her useless prattle.

"And so, I was like-" she began, spurring into another tale of her arguments with Stark, her counterpart. Aaroniero, though, had gotten up from his chair and was making his getaway like a bat out of hell.

"Hey, where are ya goin'?" she demanded, her resounding tone so loud that it garnered a few repining groans from the people spread out in random places throughout the room. Aaroniero flinched, bristling with anger and vexation as he twisted fractionally to rudely answer, "It doesn't concern you!" With what scrap of dignity he had left, the door slammed behind him, leaving the young girl standing alone, tacit. "Goodnight...," she finally murmured, to no one in particular. There was no answer, nevertheless, and Aaroniero coped with slinking away to his courters, where he wished in vain not to be bothered further by the tiny Arrancar_._

Yet, despite his efforts to keep a great distance between them both, she had but again to show up in front of his door, his home, with all the other _Espada _as spectators.

And just as briskly as he was to show his face, all the others immediately bored of him and sallied forth, as if his very being was abhored.

"What is this-some sort of freakshow?" Stark could be heard muttering as he ambled along the bridge in pursuit of his fellow _Espada._

Ulquiorra, who had one hand shoved in his pocket while the other labored in handling the weight of dragging Grimmjow alongside him-still mentally unstable-just shook his head. "He _is _a freak of nature...but you better not let him hear you say that," he warned monotonously.

Aaroniero jerked spasmodically, fully aware that Ulquiorra was insulting him within hearing range intentionally. Biting his tongue, he slammed the door behind him so suddenly that it nearly cracked the paneling, his blood boiling with rage. And had he been someone else, maybe with nothing whatsoever to lose, then, yeah, he would have, without question, challenged the emo to a duel. But he wasn't anybody else. He revered and feared Aizen too much to risk losing his reputation over a silly affront. Worse: He's the _9th Espada, _the weakest of elite Arrancar_, _the only _Gillian _among them.

He was the most disrespected among all the higher ranks, the most misunderstood, and did he care? No, he did not. Aaroniero had been slighted so many times, he now ceased to care at all, so he did not pity himself, nor did he give one flying fart about what others thought of him. Feeling that he had come to a resolve, Aaroniero sighed, and, compliments of his non-verbose nature and resolute stillness, found his way easily to a peaceful calm regardless of the recent occurence.

Then someone tugged on his sleeve, and he looked down...and screamed.


End file.
